Fallout Arcania
by Zenith Starwalker
Summary: War, no matter what world wages it, never changes.


Chapter 1: Nightmares of a Doomed World

 **A/N: Yes, I have succumbed to the Pre-Fallout 4 release hype (only a month to go! So hyped!) and decided to try my hand at writing a Fallout-esque story myself, whilst also tying it in to my Main story as a pseudo-canon spinoff. I've been in a slump lately as far as writing enthusiasm goes, and this is just something to get the ball rolling for me again. Some of you might be familiar with Fallout Equestria by Kkat, and this borrows a lot of concepts from it and sort of follows the precedent laid down in that lovely Pony-centric adaptation, but with tweaks here and there to facilitate my own story involving the land of Arcania. Simply put, think of it as a humanized version of that story-verse, but uniquely so. I've intentionally left the timeline of when this happens in relation to the Main story mostly ambiguous to spare myself some headache, along with some faction origin and motive differences, and other things that I will modify as I see fit… but just about everything else is untouched! The Snark Knight of a protagonist is still of positive moral alignment, but never hesitates to bend some of his personal codes whenever he deems it necessary. He's also as sarcastically jaded as ever, but sarcastically jaded characters are more fun for me to work with. So without further ado, let's get this spinoff moving!**

It began with a letter.

One wouldn't think that a simple example of correspondence would have far reaching consequences, but such was the folly of thinking in the here and now, as I was won't to do at times. Being the central figure to a prophecy concerning the fate of the world was no easy burden to bear. Even before I had garnered myself a position in their majesties' government where I could use myself to maximum effect, I was being constantly tested by people, events, and even what felt like the world itself on occasion. Less than a year ago, I would have consigned fantasies of a magic imbued life like mine to the aptly named 'prosaic fantasy' section of my brain, where it could gather dust until I was in that _longing mood_ that only dreamers bored with their dissatisfying existence are struck with. But even a hardcore cynic like myself could admit that one of the unexpectedly redeeming qualities about life was that it could throw a mean curveball of destiny, for better or worse.

All things taken into account, I was fortunate. I got what I wanted without lifting so much as a finger. And unlike many who could have been where I was… I hadn't the semblance of buyer's remorse. Sure, I shed my fair share of blood, sweat, and (definitely not tears… unless they were manly) other vital fluids in my newfound 'profession', but I had never felt more alive since that fateful day waking up in another world. My new life however, was in ways both literal and figurative, a double edged sword. And I was about to get a helpful reminder from the universe, in case I had forgotten that fact.

I was dozing on the unbelievably plush cloud like mattress (I think it actually was a hybrid mattress of a cloud and spongy material that inexplicably _wasn't_ memory foam) in the master bedroom of my floating home after a pleasant day spent picnicking with the girls, half of whom I was technically involved with on a romantic level. That was a socially acceptable custom that I _still_ hadn't gotten over the strangeness of. I was somewhere between awake and asleep when I discerned a bright purple-pink flash briefly emanate from inside the contents of my adventuring pack (Which had indeed gone on many adventures with me). The rather plain backpack had a space enchantment on it, but that was neither here nor there.

Startled to lucidity, which soon gave way to curiosity, I swung my legs over the bed and went to inspect the pack and see what the interruption was about. Delving my hand into the well-traveled pack's bottomless depths, I fished out a scroll of middling thickness and turned on my bedside lamplight to study the parchment. Based on the Crescent Moon wax seal keeping the letter enclosed, it was from Princess Luna herself! Normally, only her elder sister would be able to send letters to me via that special line of bottled magical dragon flame, but it wasn't like Celestia would have hoarded it to herself. The two Princesses typically shared just about everything with each other (And if anyone ever inquired into the dynamic of my relationship with the two of them, I would deny any steamy allegations of misconduct). As I quickly scanned through the initial contents of the letter, my eyes slowly began to widen.

Luna's tone in the immaculately written letter was almost stiflingly formal, as it could often be with her quaint and rather charming Elizabethan vocal patterns. But as the letter wound on, it started to exhibits cracks in the eloquent and composed lettering that betrayed an emotional urgency in its writer that was most unlike the _very_ _composed_ Princess. She was distressed, about a dream of all things! Luna _never_ showed her fears to anyone, save those closest to her, and seldom even then. Could the Princess of the Night and all that the lofty title entailed even have nightmares? I frowned and gave the letter another once over to ensure that I hadn't misread it.

 _To Zenith, Royal Agent of the sovereign Kingdom of Arcania._

 _Greetings, Agent Zenith. We hope that this letter finds thee in good health. We take the time to apologize if the suddenness of this message has caused thee any inconvenience. We would not disturb thee unless we felt it prudent, though we are unsure how to classify this dilemma of ours. We had a dream… no, more akin to a vision of what we believe to be a window of the future. What I witnessed in this vision… troubles me deeply. Meet us in the Throne Chambers of the Crystal Citadel posthaste. Perhaps thou could assist us in making sense of this vision and what it bodes for us all._

 _With our deepest regards, Princess Luna, Lunar Diarch and Herald of the Night._

' _Luna deliberately broke the Royal We rule? This must be serious_ 'And a responsible Agent like myself would be remiss in his duties if he skipped out on what essentially equated to a Royal summons.

I had the rare honor of knowing both of the Arcanian rulers from before they ascended to Princesshood (though it was under _incredibly special_ circumstances), back when they were both start out heroines fighting for Justice and Harmony in a land that wasn't Arcania. Since then they had remained consistent with their vigil, becoming paragons of goodness that would inspire several generations of heroes who wished to emulate their greatness. Though I retain a healthy skepticism towards the concept, it was abundantly clear that the two of them had the invisible threads of Destiny woven into their lives, granting them prestige beyond what they had deemed possible.

I had it too, though I would acknowledge it not.

Despite the commonly held belief that was perpetuated in time, they were not infallible beings. This was evidenced when Luna succumbed to anger and jealousy of what she perceived as living in her elder sister's shadow. She donned a featureless mask as she let the ill will festering inside her bubble to the surface and overwhelm her reason, giving into it entirely as her sister confronted her over the scheduled lowering of the Moon. The reign of the Night Terror, as she called herself, lasted only a night. But by the end of that night, many had perished, and one Solar Monarch was left without her sister by her side and the now defunct and petrified Elements of Harmonious Virtues for a millennium.

Much has changed since then. The Night Terror was defeated upon her return by six untried Maidens, who exhibited the virtues required to make them worthy bearers of the most potent magical relics the world knew of, thus solidifying their bonds of friendship. Luna was reformed and immediately regretful for all that she had done, vowing to never again give in to her baser nature. She resumed her tenure as Princess of the Night and the protector of dreams. Her speech patterns were a tad _antiquated_ after her homecoming, and were still evident from my many conversations with her. There were newfangled inventions, like the steam-powered locomotive, that both baffled and excited her too. Regardless of these hurdles, Luna had proven herself capable of adjusting to her renewed life, and in my humble opinion, was quite fit to wear her fancy and ornate crown (Which she rarely ever did, save for rather infrequent formal occasions, by the by).

I myself still favored democracy as the purest form of government. But I would not deny that the two of them were just and fair Diarchs (Even if both Day and Night court sessions are boring as hell). One of the advantages to an oligarchy such as the Arcanian government was that it was highly efficient compared to the ones I knew of. Legislature was not mired in repetitious partisan deadlock or a hopelessly frayed bureaucracy that had trouble incorporating and enforcing the legislature. Many of the day to day tasks were delegated to local councils that were given the authority to operate by the Princesses, but ultimately the Princesses' word was law.

I harrum'ed to myself I rolled the scroll back up and placed it on the nightstand. Now was not the time to be musing on such topics.

I consulted my closet for a suitable outfit to wear. I decided against my usual sexy ass Helmschmied Drachen like robes in favor of jeans, my trusty belt with the infinite triangle symbol, a dark pair of supple deerskin thin leather gloves, a red long sleeved shirt with the Arcanian yin-yang of the day and night cycle, and an oddly fashionable gray cardigan crafted for me by Rarity to wear over that. This was concealed with a midnight black leather duster (imagine Neo as a cowboy) and Stetson hat that I did not don often. I might stand out in a crowd amongst the populace of my intended destination, but I would do so with a rugged style.

As I got dressed, I contemplated how I was to get to the Krystal Kingdom with all due haste, which was many miles away and would take hours to reach even by Skyship. The only solution to this problem was a long range teleportation spell, which would bend and fold space around me and get me from point A to point B in the blink of an eye, with nothing but a flash of light and an abrupt displacement of air that sounded like a bubble being popped.

Teleportation was considered an upper mid-tier spell, and those who were capable of it were immensely respected Mages. It was one of Twilight's favorite spells to cast, and she was proficient with it at a young age. The main catch of the spell was distance. The further you wanted to go, the more magical energy you'd have to ante up, and it increased cubically for every two or three miles 'fast-traveled'. The mana requirements to traverse a distance measured in the _dozens_ of miles were insanely demanding, and even Twilight on her best day would be overtaxed by what I was about to do after the first dozen. That wasn't to say I was a superior Mage, oh no, I just had more mojo to work with. Active utilization of magic was limited to only two things (well, three things for everybody else who was forced to specialize, thanks to the _restrictions_ imposed on them by their Mana Marks), and that was imagination, and energy.

I was a full-on Trifect. The trip from the outskirts of Magiville to the frozen desolation of the North would take a decent chunk out of my enviable mana supply, but it wouldn't be anything terribly debilitating. Now, if it was _before_ I received my 'upgrade' from the Stars, I could still make the trip in multiple castings spaced apart, but I would collapse from magical fatigue right afterwards with the headache to beat all headaches. Heck, it's been a while since I have felt the mental pressure of magical exhaustion, and I do not miss it in the least.

No, my stumbling block didn't come from a lack of ability to enable change, but by the question of how I should go about doing so. Just because I had the power to intervene in many matters and influence their outcome, didn't always mean I should. I was wary of the saying that power corrupted, and was constantly reviewing the choices I had made in the past where 'might made right'. Though chiefly pure, even Celestia's record wasn't spotless. Admittedly, the Solar Monarch's errors in judgment were few and far between over the centuries, but she represented what I might become in time… a manipulatively benign deck stacker. She had been doing it for so long that I don't think even she herself could help it, though she leaves me free to act according to my own conscience for the most part.

Before I departed, I armed myself. Luna's message didn't betray a corporeal threat that I would have to do battle with, but these days I never left my house without some of my weapons. Better to have and not need than need and not have was my philosophy, and I had yet to be let down by it. I even strapped on the holster for the Magnum created for me by the Lord of Bureaucracy himself, the reformed Discord (who kept himself both busy and entertained keeping Arcania's mess of a bureaucracy chaotic, but otherwise workable) as payment for a favor. Firearms were a rarity (pun not intended), with the level of technology for them more or less equal to the era of flintlocks and muskets, and the crotchety Gryphondrians had a monopoly on those. Their brand of long range death was at no risk of proliferation to Arcania's neighbors, thanks to my efforts of mitigating the turbulence in the succession issue.

That wasn't to say that Arcania was totally left behind in the designing of firearms, but that was a closely guarded secret known only to a few individuals who were unlikely to spill the beans even under the most harrowing duress. What I currently had on me surpassed even its closest equivalent from my homeland. The deceptive .44 caliber rounds fired from my six shooter traveled at over seven hundred meters per second and impacted with a force measuring in the many _thousands_ of joules. The reason they conveyed that kind of kinetic energy was because they were self propelled, resembling microjet bullets, but with recoil (manageable for me), a jaw dropping muzzle velocity, and a roar like thunder. I inhaled tentatively as I held the stylized gun in my hand. So much _oomph_ contained within a relatively small delivery device, it boggled the mind. It was capable of extra functions that were bizarrely useful, but I was dallying with this line of thought.

My other armaments consisted of my Mage-blade _Dichotomy_ , which was a hand and a half sword composed of fifteen gunmetal gray shards of varying lengths and shapes that could hold itself together by my magic and mine alone, or act as individual blades in the grip of that magic. It was my most treasured possession by far, and had become an extension of myself in short order. The blade and I were _one being_ , and it showed when I wielded it in combat. Since I chose to forgo my robes, which normally carried the shards, I had to assemble _Dichotomy_ and sheath it in a classy, but mostly unadorned scabbard that I would wear over my back.

The scabbard was a gift to me from Luna, who owned her own Mage-blade that she named _Blue Moon_. There were only three Mage-blades in existence. Mine, Luna's, and Celestia's (Which was christened _Helios_ ). Each was totally unique, and made of an unknown metal that fell from the stars themselves in the form of a meteorite. The blades' indestructible material was magically bipolar, a trait unheard of the world over. The unbelievably keen edge was anti-magic, whereas the inner body of the blade was magically conducive. This meant that there was no magic to protect against a Mage-blade's bite, and it could be charged with magic to augment its lethality. It took a legendary Valkyrian smith a number of years of nonstop laboring to forge the metal in blades worthy of his Princesses, and even he could not make them whole. But in hindsight, they were not meant to be so. They served as a profound reminder to their users that magic binds our world together, and from many diverse parts we stand together as one… or that's how I felt about it anyway.

True to its name, _Dichotomy_ had a distinctive quality to it that the others didn't share (though I knew _Blue Moon_ and _Helios_ had tricks of their own), in that it could split and materialize into two blades: one white as the purest light, and the other blacker than the unexplored void of space. I had taken to giving these two halves the sub-names of _Nirvana_ and _Oblivion_ respectively. I liked to fancy that they represented my dual nature. To those unfamiliar with me, I leaned towards a heroic moral alignment, but I was not afraid to commit acts that would make many heroic types hesitate at in order to get the job done. I spoke softly, but carried a big stick that I was all too eager to use on my enemies.

Other weapons of note that I secured to my person were my throwing knives, my metallic bracers containing hidden blades, and the first weapon that I arrived in this world with, my Tantō. The Japanese style knife with the red wooden handle was an oddity to be sure. There was more to it than met the eye, and that's only if it were unsheathed. I haven't the faintest idea why, but when sheathed, the Tantō became unnoticeable to even the most thorough scans of my person. This is in spite of having no trace of magic on it that I can detect, and my Arcane senses were acutely sensitive. Its sharpness was on par with _Dichotomy_ , and the blade was magically conductive to boot. I've always had it on me since the very beginning. I wasn't going to suddenly change it up now of all times.

With all my accoutrements squared away, I called upon my internal font of mana, using the crisp and clear memory of the Crystal Citadel Throne Room architecture to paint a picture in my mind that the long distance teleportation spell could latch onto. Magic was intuitive enough to discern that my intended destination was the Krystal Kingdom, but it wouldn't automatically fill in all of the blanks. This tiny drawback was compounded by large distances on top of it, so the more accurate the mental image, the less likely I was to fuse myself into a wall or something. There was a built-in safeguard that prevented me from merging with other people who happened to be standing where I would be teleported and would adjust course for it, but nonliving material was not recognized (Nor objects in motion towards where I'd be). The inherent risks notwithstanding, I had never heard of teleportation horror stories like the kind you'd imagine, but I wasn't big on finding out for myself.

I could feel the magic coming to the surface, bringing a soft, vaguely buzzy sensation to my flesh. I let out a pleased sigh as I felt the mystical energies' caress enwrap me like a blanket or the hug of a loved one. My own brand of Magic (every mage has their own Arcane Aura, so to speak) was warm and bright, a lot like what I experienced with the Force (though that's a tale for another time), though it wasn't as congruously mutual, nor did it have immediately apparent sides. But its impersonal nature was offset by its boundless applications, both convoluted and mundane. The gradual accumulation of magical energy reached the tipping point for the specific spell and it triggered, catapulting me into the aethereal space between spaces.

My vision was perfused with light and it was as if I was standing on a platform that went everywhere and nowhere at once. For the caster of a teleportation spell, the trip was smooth as could be, as if you never moved a muscle. For passengers, the ride would cause severe indigestion and lead to you suppressing the urge to vacate your stomach contents on the floor of your destination (Which is why I despised being teleported by anyone other than me). The light subsided and I was faced with two spear wielding guardsmen in armor that was part crystal and part metal, said spears were leveled at me defensively. I couldn't blame them really. I know I would react negatively if someone spontaneously emerged in front of me. I raised my hands in a playful gesture of surrender, giving a jaunty grin. The guards saw this gesture of placation and relaxed visibly, withdrawing their weapons and standing at attention when they recognized me.

"You caught me, boys" I jested, "Guess it's off to the slammer with me"

They didn't even look tempted to chuckle. Humor was lost on the newer guardsmen as always.

"Prince Zenith!" The one on my left exclaimed with some shock, "This is an unexpected honor!"

I resisted a frown. I may have been a Trifect whose real identity was only partially obscured these days, but that title tasted insipid on my tongue. Princes had to deal with the figurative red tape of politics. I was predominantly unburdened by such trifles, free to act as I willed. Still, I kept up my puckish cheer for the lads, outwardly that is.

"Please, gentlemen. I am not a member of Royalty, merely their humble servant" I dismissed the title with a carefree hand wave, "Is the Princess Luna to be found nearby, perchance?"

"Yes, sir" The rightmost one confirmed, "She arrived about half an hour ago with her shadows. She seemed tense… abnormally so. Asked to speak with Princess Cadence, alone. Mentioned something about retrieving a mirror as our liege Lady dismissed us to patrol the halls. Though no one knows why" He kept silent after. Good, I liked people who could moderate their curiosity.

"Is either of them expecting me?" I enquired.

"Yes" They both replied in unison before the rightmost spoke, "We were told to be on the lookout for you, my Pri-… err, _Agent_ " He corrected himself with a bashful expression, "The Princesses both await you in the Throne Chamber"

"Then I best not keep either of them waiting" I muttered to myself, before turning my attention back to the guardsmen, "As you were"

"Sir!" The clicked their heels together and saluted before shuffling past me to resume their duties.

I took in my surroundings with muted disinterest. The spell didn't bring me exactly to where I wanted to go, but I figured being dumped less than a couple minute's walk away wasn't so bad. I had been in the Crystal Citadel plenty of times in the past, so I knew my way around without needing to consult the many convenient directories on the walls. Based on the hanging tapestries of crystal berries and the local sport of jousting with garishly caparisoned horses, I was somewhere in the upper east wing of the Citadel. The seemingly spacious interiors of the Citadel mystified me, as the building wasn't that prolific from the outside. Inside, the structure felt closer to an actual palace than the tall but thin-ish spire of glassy crystal. It wasn't at the absurd level of say, the TARDIS, but the impression was undeniably there. I let it go after a while. Some mysteries in this world were not meant to be solved.

I set off in search of the Throne Chamber. My swift pace (a habit resulting from a combination of my long stride and inclination to walk with purpose) allowed me to cover a lot of ground in no time at all. The doors to the chamber were shut, and there were two guards standing vigil in front of them that were discernably _not_ Crystal Citadel guardsmen. Their armor was as black as my duster, perhaps even darker. Unlike the utilitarian and almost streamlined appearance of the Solar and Krystal Guards' protective coverings, the armor of the Night Watch had jagged, menacing features that added to their intimidation factor. They also sported enchantments on them that the others did not have, like low light vision for instance.

"Prince Zenith. How are you this lovely evening?" The one of the left smiled as he greeted me. Intimidating as they were, the majority of the Night Watch's guardsmen were actually quite cordial. Well mannered as they were, they weren't pushovers by any definition either.

I resignedly let the Prince comment slide. These guys were some of the rare bunch that could get away with teasing me. From the winged sword emblem on the leftmost one's cape clasp, he was Skyborn, while the runic circles on the rightmost one's indicated him as a Stellar Mage. The uniform armor of the guards made it hard to pick out individual members in the beginning, but over time I had observed traits that the armors' enchantments did not account for, such as posture, height, and even those miniscule scuffs and scratches from wear and tear. Lefty was rigidly upright, while righty was looser in his stance, though ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. I recognized these two from a distance before they saw me. I wasn't chummy with guardsmen in general, but I interacted with many of them on a name basis.

I nodded, "Well enough, I suppose, Corporal Flint Striker. How are the wives doing?" God, talking about polygamous unions still felt weird to me.

"Unhappy with my irregular hours lately" He shrugged, "I'm sure I'm in for the hen pecking of my life by week's end… but such is the married life"

"And here I thought you were married to your job" I quipped; content to return the teasing jab he gave me earlier. Flint Striker was maybe a year or so older than myself, but had signed on for the Night Watch recently.

He laughed in lighthearted fashion, "I thought about it once, but I couldn't find a solemniser who'd go along with it" He coolly received the mild derision. Flint had a habit of volunteering for assignments that went above and beyond his normal task work. If he kept it up, he'd be on the fast track for promotion, as Luna loved to micromanage her personal guard. She regularly monitored for that breed of dedication and rewarded it.

"Doesn't stop you from having a mistress on the side" I smirked, not yet done with my fun. It amused me endlessly to spy the questioning sideways glance that the man's sergeant gave him. The grizzled Shadow Stalker was too serious for his own good.

He hummed neutrally, "Well, my mistress is one that even my wives could not begrudge me to have. Anyhow, we were informed that our Lady of the Night wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience"

"From her hurried letter to me, I had assumed as much" I monotoned, some of my drowsiness evident in my voice.

"Not so fast, Flint. Protocol comes first" The sergeant reprimanded the corporal, "We have to ensure that he is not a fraud"

"Of course, sir" The inexperienced corporal apologized to his superior.

The sergeant turned to me, "Forgive us, my Prince. It is a formality, but a necessary one" The middle-aged soldier bowed his head reverently to me.

I understood completely. In fact, I was the one who suggested they ramp up security in areas they previously considered too obvious to be a risk… like when an important figure showed up to speak with their Royal Highnesses. It was common sense stuff, really. I could have been an assassin for all they knew! Albeit, that descriptor _wasn't that inaccurate_ for some of the things I did over the course of the previous year. Infiltrators were always very real threats that were not to be underestimated. Changelings spies had implanted themselves deep into Arcania's society, and had yet to be fully rooted out. They had gone silent in the past handful of months, which could mean any number of things, few of them positive.

"And an important one. You may proceed, Sergeant Shadow Stalker" I gave my consent for him to cast the spell.

The Stellar Mage's hand lit up faintly with a bluish aura that extended to me. He concentrated harder as my natural resistance to active foreign magicks being used on me warded off his initial energies. I consciously lowered my passive defense and my skin felt crackly, as if I was curled around a Tesla coil. The sensation ceased after a few seconds since the sergeant was satisfied with the reaction, or rather the lack thereof.

"He's the real deal" Shadow Stalker announced, not expecting a different outcome despite his adherence to standard protocol.

"Not so fast" I parroted his prior words, "The job's only half done"

I recalled an unpleasant encounter with a ring of Changelings in Steelhatten during the technological exposition at the Iron Innovator's Fair. The experience served to highlight how vulnerable we were in even areas we thought to be fool proofed. The standard method for exposing changelings via static electrical shocks to cause flickers in their disguises was no longer a viable option, as they had adapted by wearing legitimate clothing with conductive mesh woven into the apparel, acting as a Faraday shield that resisted the zap method and permitted them an uncompromised 'second skin'. I would think it somewhat ingenious if it weren't for their rude, arrogant attempt to kidnap _me_ of all people (I had to humor them, for the sake of hundreds of innocents that could have become collateral casualties). Needless to say, they bit off more than they could chew when they brought me back to their sanctum… and I was tied to a chair for crying out loud!

I reached behind my back and unsheathed my Tantō, making the corporal uneasy at the sudden motion, before peeling off a glove and poking at my palm with the tip. I had thick skin, but the edge of the blade tip punctured my flesh like wet tissue paper. A crimson dot emerged from the minor wound and pooled into a tiny glob as I contracted my palm. The changelings may have looked humanoid in their normal form, but the color they bled was anything but what you'd expect, ranging from a silvery-green to a dark green the likeness of bile. _That_ was not something the emotivores could alter so easily. I showed my palm to the guardsmen, and the sergeant bobbed his head in affirmation. I rubbed my hand across my forearm to clean it and inspected the wound to find it already sealed. How often had that markedly Trifect quirk served me in the past? The better question would be how often it would serve me in the future.

"I admire your careful assiduity, sir" The sergeant declared, "Yours in an example in caution for us to aspire to"

"Just practicing what I preach, sergeant. Think little of it" I shook off the praise as I replaced the glove, "Now, let's move on to business. I would have words with the Princesses"

The sergeant grunted affirmatively as he rapped his knuckles on the door thrice before waiting a beat and then knocking twice. My desire to enter made official, the doors to the Throne Chamber swung open slowly as the guardsmen pushed them wide to grant me passage.

"Gloriam a Nocte" I recited what scant Latin I could dredge up as I passed by the men. I heard them both murmur "Nos servo domina noctis" in reply, as if by rote.

The Throne Chamber of the Crystal Citadel was resplendent as ever. Decorative banners and informative tapestries depicting the historical side of the Krystal Kingdom hung high on the reflective walls. I wasn't sure if it was the pulsing Crystal Heart directly beneath my feet, but the air in here always felt like it was extra suffused with magic compared to other places nearby. The chamber was empty of the usual guardsmen on duty, and the only other occupants were deep in discourse by the dais of the throne. Interestingly, there was a tall mirror planted by the top platform of the throne chair itself, obscuring it from sight.

The de facto ruler of the Krystal Kingdom (which itself was classified as a sub-kingdom within Arcanian territory) was the Princess Cadence, who was Twilight's sister in law. She was a delicate beauty, though not as fragile as many would make her out to be. She was in her nightgown with curlers in her tri-tone hair, so she had been interrupted from grabbing some Z's herself. I could only see half of her face from where I was walking, but the frown lines were unmistakable. She was rarely in a mood less than cheerful, given her disposition as the Princess of Love and the rightful inheritor of this magnificent city in the north. In fact, the last occasion I had seen her with such a stormy expression on her face was when we had first met. Thieves had broken into her Citadel, injured her guardsmen, and made off with a dangerous artifact from right under her nose. That was my first adventure. One of many to come.

Princess Luna on the other hand, wore a contemplative expression on her pale, winsome face. I could sense her powerful, invigorating aura the second I flashed myself here, as I also could with her elder sister. Cadence had yet to reach their level, so she did not overtly register on my bizarre arcane extrasensory sense. I did not know why, but beings with significant clout exuded an ambient aura that I could detect and even analyze to find out additional information about them. I chalked it up as one of the many gifts that those from above bestowed upon me to aid me in this land. Luna was clad in her Full Dress uniform, giving her a classy, militaristic quality. Her Mage-blade _Blue Moon_ was sheathed at her side, her hand casually resting on the handle, but she was instinctively ready to whip it out and slice a possible threat in half faster than you could blink.

Luna (with the possible inclusion of her sister) was my regular basis sparring partner, and she had helped hone my skills with a blade into something fearsome. At first she could mop the floor with me four times out of five due to her years of experience over the neophyte that I was, but swordsmanship was one thing I took to like a fish to water. I did eventually come to hold my own by balancing out her aggressiveness with deceptive tactics that denied her every chance to get within my guard and win handily. But by now, I could match her blow for blow while exploiting her notable weakness to feints (That I sometimes made good on when she failed to take the bait. I've gotten to be a tricky bastard lately). Luna was once a bearer of the Element of Honesty (ironic, given her shadowy brand of magic), and she retained an ingrained aversion to using deception to gain an edge in a fight. I had no such qualms. And until she could reconcile that, I would be her match in the ring and potentially more.

My footfalls were muted by the rolled out purple velvet carpet as I moseyed over to two of the most important women in this world. They must not have paid any heed to the door knocks announcing my entry, as they were still in the process of conversing with each other.

"-nd you saw him at the center of this?" Came Cadence's confused comment, "…Do you think _he_ might have something to do with it?" She whispered conspiratorially. Didn't see why she bothered. My hearing was as sharp as my sight.

"We know not" Was Luna's normal volume response, "But we have not the specter of doubt in our mind that he is central to this possible prophecy. The enigma of magical foresight speaks the loudest in dreams, particularly _our dreams_ "

"And the mirror?" Cadence pointed to it, as if in accusation, "We still don't know its purpose! I really, _really_ wanted to vehemently decline when Auntie Celestia asked that I shelter it here. I believed it to be a subtle command to keep it hidden away" She looked at it with distrust, "There's something… _off_ about that mirror that bothers me in ways I can't explain. When it first arrived, I thought I saw something morbid in my reflection… it was _awful_ " She shivered.

"The mirror is indeed a mystery" Luna agreed, though not sympathetically, "We know not where it comes from, or how it managed to spontaneously manifest itself in my sister's quarters some centuries ago; which has no small number of high tiered enchantments on it barring intruding magicks. It leaves us to postulate that the mirror does not exclusively operate within the parameters of thaumaturgy, and therefore does not have to abide by its rules"

"So it might not have even been created in a realm with magic" Cadence posited, "The very concept is foreign to me, and dare I say it… _unnatural_ as well"

Having stopped a couple of yards approximate to them, I chose that moment to interject, "I resent that statement, for reasons that should be plainly clear to you" I deadpanned, having been born in a world that was unbound by magic.

Cadence nearly jumped out of her skin, "Zenith!?" She rotated her neck to regard me with astonishment, "Don't sneak up on me like that!" Her brow wrinkled as she beheld my unorthodox outfit. I ignored her distaste of my fashion sense. I got enough of that highfalutin crap from Rarity.

I crooked my head, "I wasn't sneaking, Princess. If I were, you'd never know I was here. Your counterpart might notice something amiss if I was in a rush," I nodded to Luna, "but I can remain undetected by most if I so choose" Stealth was just as effective as 'going loud' in some situations.

Cadence looked as though she was about to retort, but a hand laid on her shoulder by Luna caused the words to die in her throat.

Cadence sighed in exasperation, "I should leave you two alone then. Shining will want an explanation for why I was called on by the Regent of the Moon"

"Tell _no one_ , Cadence" Luna instructed sternly, "Not even thy husband"

"What am I to tell him then?" Cadence questioned, "I don't want to lie to him"

"Then don't" Luna answered simply, "The details of this meeting are of the highest confidentiality. Not even our sister is to know of this"

Cadence paled at the implications of what Luna just disclosed, before she consented wordlessly and departed from the Throne Room. The twin Diarchs were not supposed to keep secrets from each other, especially the ones concerning the fates of their subjects. Exactly what was it that Luna saw that demanded everything to be hush-hush?

With Cadence gone, it was only the two of us in the noiseless chamber. We stared at the other in silence for a long minute, daring the other to blink. Luna then walked forward with an unreadable expression and her hand still on the pommel of her sword. Paranoid men would think that she meant to draw her weapon and make an attempt on my life. But I knew Luna… and so I trusted her.

That trust was rewarded when she embraced me in a warm hug that belied her icy exterior. I returned the gesture wholeheartedly. Luna and I had developed a close relationship that had been tempered in the times we spent both awake and asleep. I am pretty sure that the only other person she loosened her stringency around was her sister. She seemed moderately comfortable around the Element Bearers too, but not to the same degree.

"We missed thee greatly, Zenith" She spoke softly.

"I know, Luna" I stroked a hand through the ethereal, starlit strands of her hair, "But I'm here now. What troubles you?"

She detached from me and inhaled deeply, her eyes closed in deliberation, "You read our note, yes?"

"I did" I confirmed, "But it was sorely lacking in explicit information"

Luna exhaled tiredly, "Then we shall enlighten you" She took a couple of seconds to collect her thoughts before continuing, "As a guardian of dreams, it is a rare occurrence for us to be confined to our own. We were unsure what this meant… until our dream clarified for us"

"You wrote that it was a vision, didn't you? What did you see?" I prompted her to elucidate with a roll of the hand.

"There are many facets to it that elude our comprehension, but we will try to best expound on what we interpreted" She acquiesced, "It began with in a heavily symbolic sense. The flag of our nation stood proud upon a mound of precious minerals and fertile soil, its banner caught high in a lofty breeze. The flags of our many neighbors stood beside it, some in tatters and some that were unmistakably covered in blood. There were black, oily strings connecting all flags to each other from above, coming from a source that I could not gaze upon without being paralyzed with sheer, primal terror. One bloodied flag in particular with the most numerous strings manipulating it ascended atop the mound with zeal, threatening to knock ours off of its stand. Our dream shifted before we could determine whether or not it succeeded, or which nation the contending flag belonged to"

"How so?" I pondered, mildly curious.

"The symbolic analogies waned and things grew literal. We saw a world evolve and observed an expansion unlike anything we have ever witnessed. Villages multiplied in size and complexity at a rate that would typically take centuries, and this transpired in _mere decades_. Hamlets became towns, and towns became great metropolises with people moving about in disorderly lines like worker ants. Titans with glass flesh and steel bones towered above the skylines, like the ones in the aptly named Steelhatten, which was only a small trade settlement called New Hamsterdam before our banishment. It specialized in selling animal furs, if we recall correctly" She mentioned offhand.

That made me almost wince. Steelhatten was a _serious improvement_ of a designation. The parallels between this world and the one that was originally my own, twisted as they could be, were as unexpected as they were groan-worthy.

"Even though these monoliths closely resembled the architecture that we saw in the dreams you shared with us, it was the presence of Skyborn flittering about these cities that guaranteed that this was our land we saw advancing. There were even iron clad monstrosities of metal that allowed those not gifted with flight to become airborne!" Luna pressed on, unabated, "We never thought we would see the works of our people overcome the vast, change resistant fortress that is nature, and yet it had. Large box like structures with roaring flames in their bellies and smoke for breath churned out machines of gears, wires, and metal. Men and women wielded weapons that made even the most robust of crossbows seem like children's playthings, belching fire and brimstone and slinging solid, spinning projectiles at speeds too fast for mortal minds to perceive"

Her eyes fell to my side, and warily appraised the gun that was holstered to it, "Such things already exist today, though only yours can replicate the destructive results that I saw"

"Mine can surpass whatever they could cook up, I think" I boasted, though not completely arrogantly, "Is there anything more to your dream that you'd like to tell me about?"

"Events took an ill turn" A shadow passed over her expression, "We once believed that we knew all about the horrors of war" She chuckled darkly, "We were wrong. We knew as much about what a real war was as the newborn child knows about the effects of age. We know not why, but our country became embroiled in a conflict unlike anything the world had ever seen, with a death toll on both sides that could be counted in the many hundreds of thousands. The advanced instruments of warfare were nothing if not ruthlessly effective. If they did not kill, they maimed in such horrific ways that would make those inflicted wish, even beg for death"

I listened with rapt attention, "And then?"

"The terrible war ended… and the world ended with it" Luna said sadly, "Everything was annihilated in blinding flashes of light that occurred all over the globe. This light burned with such intensity that it was as if my sister's Sun was introduced to Earth on a smaller, nearer scale. The light faded after it wrought its pure, destructive chaos several times over… and all life was extinguished with it"

"How can you be sure if there were no survivors?" I gainsaid her, "Humankind has survived some incredible things. How about those that went underground?"

The Princess frowned, "If anyone could survive such a catastrophic event, I would not envy them, or their children. But we would not know if any did, for the vision shifted once again"

This nightmare was sounding dishearteningly prophetic, "To what?"

She cut me to the quick with her next words, "To you"

I was baffled, "To me?"

"It did, and that is the main reason I have summoned you here. The penultimate part of the vision is of you and that mirror. You are pivotal in the undisclosed outcome of this dream, though in a way that escapes my understanding. The last act that my dream showed me was of you standing in the heart of a swirling maelstrom of darkness that was poised to devour all goodness that remains in the world. You were like a lighthouse on a precipice being battered by the storm, defying its wicked power with your own. I choose to believe that the conclusion of my vision offered a message of hope, hope that this bleak future could be averted" She concluded resolutely.

"What would you have me do?" I asked rhetorically, seeing past the Princess and towards the aforementioned mirror.

"You are destined to bring the world together, and yet in my dream that same world tears itself apart" She recounted, "We must assume that this vision is a warning of things to come, and that only you can prevent from happening. We can only surmise that the key to accomplishing this is via the mirror"

' _Oh, those are the words I did not want to hear_ ' I groused to myself.

"Luna" I sighed, "You know how I feel about that damned mirror"

"But thou must!" She insisted, "We have tried to pass through it ourselves, but it refuses us! _Please_ , Zenith. You have to stop this! We would not ask this of thee unless there was no other way!"

My resolve was slowly but surely crumbling, "How do you even know that me entering the mirror will actually stop this doomsday prophecy of yours? What if it sends me on a wild goose chase? Wouldn't be the first instance" And _boy_ was that an odd detour.

She gently swayed her head side to side, "There are no guarantees but that which we saw. The last we were this certain about the truth behind our dream was just before we ascended. _Please_. We are at the end of our rope. Thou, and thou alone can put our mind at ease" She repeated desperately. To hear the indomitable Princess of the night _beg_ me to do this ripped at my heartstrings.

Oh dear Lord did it kill me to hear Princess Luna plead in that queerly vulnerable voice, " _Fine then_. But if it sends me to some godforsaken world like it did the first time, _so help me_ " I left that sentence unfinished, my aggravation plenty transparent.

Luna was puzzled, "You never did tell us what awaited you during your first experience with the mirror, only what happened when you traveled into the past"

"And I never will. It was just… too bizarre" I grumbled, "It's a good thing I came pre-prepared for a journey like this" Having to run back home to grab my stuff would give me the time to assess the stupidity of what I was about to do and reconsider.

I climbed the steps to the mirror, watching my tall shape come into focus. I wasn't the kind to admire his clean-shaven, tidy appearance, even if the descriptor 'rakishly handsome' had been applied to me on a set of male magazines in multiple ongoing issues (Despite only posing for the photographers _once_. That's persistence). I wasn't a narcissist after all. I stopped shy of the reflective surface and tentatively prodded at it with a finger. It rippled and gave way like a pool of water without the cool wetness. Yup, it was inviting me and only me. _That_ _figures_. The mirror was a wild card. Not even those who 'recruited' me knew the full extent of its functions, nor its true purpose. I stifled an agitated groan as I turned to face Luna, the last minute regrets crowding in my stomach.

"Any pointers you might have for me? Cause I've got this nagging suspicion that this undertaking will challenge me in ways most grueling" I was stalling for time here, but it was still a legitimate concern.

She shook her head, "We do not know entirely what thou wilt encounter on the other side. But we have the utmost confidence in thy abilities to overcome any obstacles, as a warrior of valor and as a man of honor" She leaned upwards and kissed me on the cheek, "Come back to me" She whispered, breaking her 'Royal We' code. Her eyes shimmered longingly, even though I hadn't left yet.

"C'mon, Lulu" I grinned reassuringly at her, "You know I always do"

Because I forwent a grand entry, I chose to make up for it by making a grand exit. Catching her off guard, I backpedaled suddenly into the mirror. The temperature-less material absorbed me and flung me into the unknown. The last mental picture I had of the Princess was a single, pristine tear trailing down the otherwise flawless flesh of her left cheek.

⁂

I had the undesirable privilege of being persuaded to travel through the mystical mirror before, though not by a person per se (It was technically a conglomerate of them). The transition the first time had been rather unpleasant in many respects, proving to be a physical and metaphysical sensory overload that had ill effects on the mind. Colors beyond the palette that you wouldn't think existed could be felt, heard, smelled, and even tasted! Worse yet were the eldritch visions that always remained in your periphery, and yet somehow were clearer than the most high-end resolution picture. It was a journey that would have lesser men stark raving mad by the midway point, let alone the end. I wanted to have a serious talk to my celestial 'recruiters' about their mode of transportation throughout space and time, but evidently the subtler nuances of the mirror were not under their jurisdiction, which said a lot to me about just how fickle the machinations of the looking glass were.

On this go, the metaphorical waters had gone from choppy sea to a tempest that bombarded me like I was the bullseye for a 'Time On Target' massed artillery barrage. There were no increments to it. One moment I stepped through the portal… the next moment, all I knew was anguish. It was like all the pain and suffering of the universe was upon me, being driven through me like a white-hot nail through my skull. Every fiber of my being might as well have been doused in jet fuel and set alight; such was the intensity of the pain. I wanted to howl until my lungs gave out, but the agony was such that the breath refused to evacuate my lungs, not even in choked gasps, leaving me in a paralyzed state of impotence that I would only wish on the absolute _worst_ of my enemies (And there were quite a few of those, thanks to the routinely abrasive nature of my work).

The diluvial flood of sensation wasn't just limited to pain though. There were… fractured memories in the void, countless numbers of them, coursing through my mind like the pounding of drums in the deep. Have you ever experienced several distinct lifetimes pass you by in the metaphorical blink of an eye? Surprisingly, for me the answer is yes. I had experienced something similar to that before back in the Neverfree Castle of the Royal Sisters, sans the excruciating pain I was now undergoing of course. I had liberated the lost souls of the Castle staff from the clutches of the Night Terror's remnants, which had sinisterly been feeding on their misery of their spiritual bondage like the parasite that it was. After I had purged the Night Terror, the souls of those poor folks persisted for a moment to 'thank' me with a front row seat into the record of their short lives before passing on into the hereafter. It was because of this unparalleled experience that I was able to rein in what faculties were not preoccupied by my predicament and catch glimpses of those memories, sort of like moving your eyesight sufficiently fast to catch the movement of a ceiling fan blade mid-motion.

This was no ordinary slideshow however, as attached to those memories were aftertastes of all of the emotions that were contained within. Peace, pride, love, joy, happiness. All emotions that were delightful at first, and they eased some of my torment by taking the edge off, making it easier to analyze these memories. These were not just localized memories, but recollections from all over the world, even places I hadn't visited or seen. But gradually the scale tilted towards the other end of the emotional spectrum. Anger, indignation, disappointment, hatred, wrath. If these memories were in sequence, then there was a dramatic change in the lives of these people, and not a desirable one at that. I witnessed scenes like something out of a hybrid Steampunk slash WW2 style war movie.

The battles waged were ferocious and fought to costly standstills, which often had people brawling in the muck before someone had a knife wedged into their trachea. Tracked, thundering beasts resembling tanks slugged it out with increasingly deadlier cannons. The metaphorical shield had improvements done to it to match the skyrocketing lethality of the sword. AP shells ricocheted off sloped armor as the war was fought long enough for wartime technology to advance almost in real time. Newer munitions were introduced to adapt for thicker, slanted armor by ramping up the penetration mechanics. I could have sworn I saw a memory of a tank detonating from the inside because a lucky hit from a HEAT round ignited the ammo rack.

Battlefields became testing grounds for all manners of weapons on both sides, some of them truly insidious. The landscapes were eventually transformed into bloody bogs and muddy pits where the bullet and shrapnel ridden corpses were left to rot without proper burial. Coal deposits especially were bitterly contested, and fights for control over them were legendary for their atrocious mortality rates and the effective brutality of the tactics employed in securing them. Invasions of weaker, less defended countries to acquire additional resources were a routine occurrence… and the invasion of Arcania itself was the blood laced icing on the cake. Once beautiful forests were accidentally torched to their roots as farming fields were set alight to deny the enemy resources, and the smoke consistently clogged the sky like a darkened blanket of clouds. The air was filled with the screams of the dying, which could last well into the night. There was _so much_ death and destruction, with nothing to accompany it but the cold, dreary desolation that followed in its wake.

Though Luna's worst fears were confirmed through these tortured images, there were neutral to positive things between those hellish images to be seen as well. Places that were once too small to be seen on most maps grew from sleepy hamlets and expanded into thriving metropolises bustling with activity and industry. Just as they did in Luna's vision. Villages that were distinctly Arcanian and a far cry from any town that resembled ones in my homeland now became mirrors to it. Even the horse drawn carriages and buggies gave way to automobiles, first powered by steam and then by what had to be some form of internal combustion! Animal power was phased out in favor of mechanical might, and these machines spread nationwide. The dirt and cobbled roads that were so common a sight were likewise phased out over time to accommodate the burgeoning appearance of these machines, with asphalt pavement replacing them. Trains modernized past their nineteenth century equivalents, though most retained the coal fed steam boilers. Communities that were once days apart by travel were now divided only by mere hours.

The already large and developed megacities such as Steelhatten, Delphia, Las Valkyras, or Vanclover became the showroom floors for incredible innovations that were wholly unique and not exclusively sold to Arcanian subjects. Not all the implements looked particularly useful, but the overarching point seemed to be that innovation became the driving force of the economy; pushing it ever onwards towards some nondescript horizon that no nation had reached before. Agriculture incorporated working versions of Flim and Flam's fruit harvesting equipment (before they went unbearably crooked), which maximized production and created unprecedented surpluses for market. This surplus of food, coupled with an influx of immigrants, meant that the population _doubled_ within a decade and a half. I saw a great industrialization take place rivaling anything from my homeworld's history. But with the advantages of modernization also came its myriad, mundane downsides. Electricity had gone from a novelty found in a few homes to a major necessity the nation over. A byproduct of this was the advent of primitive computing devices that revolutionized the way information was created and stored.

Corporations arose that were centered on the production and mass manufacture of workaday household gadgets and appliances to citywide endeavors such as underground metros linking stations throughout the country. Capitalism and materialism became the order of the day, supplanting the spiritual aspects of earthly stewardship with their sublunary practicality. There were even hints at a rudimentary form of a stock market, though it was less determinant of the economy's health. Costs were stabilized and monitored for the first time in Arcanian history (forgoing the vendors setting their own) to make these inventions readily available to everyone at reasonable prices. Nearly as lucrative as the home market was the overseas market, as foreign countries were scrambling head over heels to keep up with Arcania's hops, skips, and jumps ahead in the field of tomorrow. What these countries could not innovate on their own, they copied from their main competitor, with varying degrees of success. Trade became more integral to the economy than ever, and port cities became tremendously wealthy on tariffs alone.

There was a common theme to all of this. Magic played second fiddle to technology, and only rarely did their tunes align harmoniously. That was not to say that magic didn't have crucial developments of its own. I saw an interesting method for a multitude of spells to be stacked and layered over the other in a complex crystalline lattice framework that somehow augmented their efficiency and potency. It could be used to amplify one effect a hundredfold, or several effects to differing levels. At first, these magnified spell frameworks were intended to be used for benevolent purposes, but it was not at all surprising to see it warped into serving belligerent ones. War had a way of corrupting even the very purest of ideas into something grotesque and horrendous.

How I learned this simply from brief flashes of manifold images was beyond my ken, but the knowledge was there. It was not comprehensive, but it relayed to me the underlying message none the less. But the widespread prosperity was not to last. Like magnets of opposing charges, the two dimensions merged mercilessly and spectacularly, and their culmination was worthy of shock and awe. I did not know the precise reasons for why the international community of this new, technologically advanced world devolved into bickering that led to bloodshed like nothing else in its history, but the coldblooded warfare suddenly went hot. The explosions that consumed the planet in Luna's vision went off, burning so bright that they made the sunlight seem comparatively dim.

They annihilated whole settlements worldwide without thought or care for those dwelling within them. The majority of people didn't rise from their beds that day knowing it would be their last to live, and the heartbreaking despair of when that realization was made paled to what they felt in the end. I underwent the searing sting of their deaths… _millions of them_ , all in an instant. Some were blindsided, some had moments to form a half finished expletive in their mouths, some had their jaws agape. No matter the reaction, each of them cried out to someone as they eyes boiled and their flesh vaporized, verbally or otherwise. They called out to the Princesses to save them, to a 'Caesar' to shepherd their souls over to the next life, to their government in anger for letting it get this bad, to their deities for standing idly by as the world went to hell, to their loved ones to take shelter… and _most_ all of them were silenced forever.

It was _soulrending_ … and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it.

The end of the transfer was abrupt and rude, dumping me out on the other side like a useless pile of rubbish. I fell to my knees, not registering the hard surface underneath me, nor caring as I vacated the contents of my stomach. I slumped over to my side and lay on the metal grating curled into a ball as I waited for the pain to subside. My thoughts (what coherent ones I had) retreated into the deepest depths of my mind, where they could not be disturbed. I thought I knew suffering before, but this outranked everything I had endured in the past combined and left it in the dust. How I was not torn asunder in the process was either a miracle or proof that fate was much crueler than I ever imagined.

I don't know how long I languished there. It could have been minutes, hours, or even days. In the near darkness, there was no way of determining the passage of time. It was utterly pathetic, to be reduced to a quivering wreck with leftover bile dribbling down my cheek. I was not an overly proud individual, but I held on to my notions of dignity fiercely. The saving grace of this was that there was nobody to witness and record my deplorable state, or I would never live it down. Strength returned to my body piecemeal, and once I judged it sufficient, I collected the willpower to stand up. I did so shakily and surveyed my surroundings with a minor but revealing spell of illumination at the tip of my index finger (Not unlike E.T). I found them familiar forthwith, if not changed around a bit.

I was in the bowels of the Crystal Citadel, inside one of its storerooms located at the bottom of a secret passage beneath the Throne Chamber. Behind me was the same mirror I regretted entering, fixed in place by metal clamps like something out of the original Stargate series. All around the mirror in a ring were miniature towers of equipment that must've have been computer terminals and databanks like those I had witnessed during the trip here. Power lines and wires looped about the room like vines in a floppy disk era jungle. But that made no sense. The mirror was never as straightforward as just acting like a doorway. It _wanted_ you to learn from the location you wound up in, no thanks to it. As much as I was loath to admit it, the deceptively standard looking glass taught me some valuable lessons in the past (in both meanings of the word), one of which was to avoid it like the plague.

I had to stop and think for a moment. Which was the more pertinent? Where I was, or when I was? I hadn't a clue how much time it would have taken for Arcania to leap ahead in technology the way it did (Which was a shocker for me, as experience taught me that change did not occur rapidly in a country like Arcania). I stepped outside of the inner ring platform containing the mirror and the room immediately lit up from artificial lighting strips installed in the ceiling. The fans of the computers whirred to life and began to process the flow of data anew. I idly wondered where the electricity to feed these machines was coming from, as there was no noisy generator to be heard.

I stumbled forward on uneasy footing towards the only computer terminal whose screen face wasn't facing away from the mirror. Based on the blinking light bulb on the upper left corner, it wanted me to approach it. I did so, canceling my superfluous lighting spell as I tried to make out what was displayed on the dusty screen of the monitor.

On the green-lit screen of the old fashioned but sturdy looking terminal were multiple lines of text that constituted a riddle in the form of a poem. It read as follows:

 _We oversaw the time when all is cool and calm,_

 _When the light has dimmed and the breeze is balm,_

 _Thou need not fear thy sleep for we are there,_

 _To witness incredible sights yet go nowhere,_

 _Once a bedtime tale now made flesh,_

 _By jealousy and envy did we transgress,_

 _Were it not for the grace of friends,_

 _We would be unable to make our amends,_

 _But there was one who stole the Moon,_

 _Unyielding as stone and implacable as the typhoon,_

 _In our haste did we dismiss,_

 _Now we pay for that which was remiss,_

 _You knew our guilt and our everlasting shame,_

 _Oh how thy kindness set our heart aflame,_

 _Ye who has emerged from the portal,_

 _What was my name when I was mortal?_

The blinking cursor below the poem prompted me for an answer.

I typed in 'Selene', in answer to the riddle and pressed the 'return' key. Yes, that was Luna's name before she became the Princess that I knew her as. She told me once that her birth name no longer held any special meaning for her, but it seems that the opposite was true. It made for one hell of an un-guessable password, anyhow. The lines of text disappeared and an empty bar in the center of the screen began filling up, indicating that I input the correct response. Clearly whatever was sluggishly loading on the screen was meant for my eyes only.

When the loading bar was completely filled, a square window materialized on the screen. It was of Luna! Even though she was physically incapable of aging, there were subtle tells here and there that even on a poor resolution screen denoted her run-ragged appearance. There were stress lines on her face, her vigor was missing, and her eyes showed their full age in a tired, resigned manner. I had a good idea of what happened in my absence that could diminish her magnificence so. She was more solemn than I had ever seen her, and she could be pretty damned solemn! The background was obscured in darkness, so I could not discern where she was when she saved this for posterity. As she spoke in her prerecorded message, speaker grills on the underside of the terminal keyboard piped out her voice, giving it an electronic tinge.

" _Is this confounded contraption working?_ " She asked someone off-screen, who must've given a wordless affirmative, since she refocused on the camera recording her and cleared her throat. Luna's myriad difficulties with adjusting to new technologies were an endless source of amusement for both her elder sister and myself. But now, the somberness of the moment robbed it of all humor.

" _Greetings, Zenith. We hope this message finds thee in good health_ " She attempted to smile at her little inside joke, but it fell flat, " _If thou art seeing this, then you must know that the worst situation has come to pass. War has consumed our country, heart and soul. In spite of our foreknowledge of the events to come, we could not forestall the cascade of calamities that befell the world. You truly were the our best hope to stem the tide of evil,_ " She was pained, " _and we sent thee away to chase geese, as thou pointed out so astutely_ " She chuckled mirthlessly, " _Do not blame thyself for our mistake. We could not dissuade ourselves from the notion that the mirror was the solution to the terrible portents of our vision, but how fickle fate can be!_ "

She steeled herself for her final words to me, " _If our world ends in the coming days… we want thee to commit this to the wall of thy heart. We…-_ _ **I**_ _love you, Zenith. Each memory we shared together is a treasure that keeps us going in these trying times. Mayhaps we shalt see thee again in the hereafter_ " Her composure was a hair's breadth from breaking down as she shut off the recording.

After a few seconds of silence, another feminine voice with computerized inflections spoke to me.

" _There is a compilation of before and after images taken by blast proof cameras before they went offline due to malfunctions with multiple causes. Would you care to see the ones of Krystal City?_ " It inquired, utterly ignoring my dumbstruck state.

"Sure… why not" I replied absently, not really there. I was too overwhelmed by everything. I didn't even care that I was speaking to what had to be an Artificial Intelligence.

A compendium of pictures flashed onscreen. Despite their greenish tint, the images of flash fried countryside, pulverized buildings, and general destruction were unmistakable. I sunk to my knees as I beheld the last, damning panoramic image of the demolished cityscape on the screen. I was too late.

All was lost.

Footnote: Quest begun! ' _Down the Radioactive Rabbit Hole_ '

(Given that the protagonist is a Trifect, his natural abilities will be quite generous. Basically we're looking at a blatantly OP build from the start, but I plan to be somewhat reasonable with it)

 **Starting Perks:**

 **Advanced Healing Factor:** (+300% to base healing rate. +10 to hunger meter from light to moderate damage, +50 to hunger meter after severe injuries) Being a Trifect has its advantages, among them is a healing rate that most would consider bordering on miraculous. The only drawback is that you'll get the munchies if you rack up _too many ouchies_.

 **Fists of Steel:** (Unarmed attacks do +250% damage and have a high chance to dismember opponents) Due to your ungodly high strength stat (imagine battleships for your biceps), resorting to fisticuffs is akin to pulling out a 4 Gauge shotgun and firing it pointblank into an enemy's face. _Yeah_ … it's messy.

 **Swordsman:** (+50% base damage increase with all bladed melee weapons. +60% chance to dismember enemies. +25% chance to score a Crit) You've trained with the sword in the past, and have used it on enough occasions to be at the degree where swordplay is second nature to you.

 **Tough Hide Lvl 1:** (+17% to Damage Resistance) You're built tough, able to soak up damage and dish it back thrice. Perk effects enhance with level, up to a maximum of 85%.

 **Gunslinger Lvl 1:** (+25% chance to deal a critical hit when in deadeye mode. Effects can build with level increase. Only works with one-handed weapons; specifically pistols) You have prior experience with firearms, enough that you've an exceptionally deadly aim without the aid of magic. Additional ranks of this perk increase chances of bonus limb damage and the ability to disarm opponents, in _both_ senses of that word.

 **Observant:** (+3 to Perception) You have keen eyes, always swiveling in their sockets. Details, be they large or small, all of these are absorbed and processed in that tireless information center you call a brain. You're not quite Sherlock level deductive skills yet, but you could make a decent substitute for Watson.

 **Sixth Sense:** (Unique perk. Context sensitive ability that allows you to sense danger before it rears its ugly head) You don't know how, but you can sense when shit is about to go down. Grants you the ability to make split second decisions before the aggro comes. Bonus: Second rank of this perk allows you to perceive when you are being spied on from afar.


End file.
